I Still Have Love to Give: the 73rd Hunger Games
by J. K. Meowling
Summary: Annalise Durrien has a lot more to do in life, but her world is turned upside down and shattered when she is reaped for District 5 in the 73rd Hunger Games
1. Wishing I Could Be Somewhere Else

The dawn breaks on another chilly gray day in District 5. I sleep in, trying to get as much sleep as possible, since it is rare that we are allowed off of school or work. I manage to catch a few hours of sleep until I feel my father awakening me. It is 9:00 on the dot as I swing my legs out of the warm bedclothes and tramp downstairs, where breakfast is awaiting my sister and I. Isabelle is 10, I am 15.

Our mother left us when I was 7, Isabelle was 3. I still hate her, even though I have no idea where she could be. Rumour has it that she left to live in another district.

Breakfast is quiet, mainly because I am engrossed in my favourite author's latest book, _The Last One Left_. It's a mystery novel, and the suspense is killing me. We all finish, and we go to our own rooms to get ready. Reaping day is today, you know. I've survived for this long, just a few more years and I will be free to live my life. The only thing I will need to worry about is Isabelle's safety.

I begin to get ready, putting on my best dress—a black sleeveless knee-length with a silver sash. I put up my long, curly, brown hair, trying to tame it into a knot on top of my head. I eventually settle with it pushed back with a silver headband. I pull on black flats and go next door to get Isabelle. She looks perfect in a plaid skirt and a ruffled blouse, her straight blonde hair cascading down her back.

"Hey Annalise," she says, cocking her head at me. She has a worried look on her face, but then again everyone does at this time of year.

"Hey, Izy," I reply, hugging her.

"You both look beautiful," my dad says, coming out of his room. He has on a polo shirt and a pair of slacks, and there is sadness reflected in his eyes. He puts his arms around both of us and we walk out of the house together.

When we get to the North Crossroad, I kiss my sister and father goodbye and go to my friend Brady Mitchell's house. She and her twin brother, Damien, are in my grade at school. Brady and Damien are some of my best friends, and their mother often acts like a surrogate towards me. I go in through the back porch and up to Brady's room—declining a cookie from Mrs. Mitchell. I tap out our favorite song on the door with my finger nails, and enter when I hear a "Get in here and help me!"

I open the door to find Brady sitting at her vanity, attacking her thick auburn hair with a curling iron. I run in and take the curler from her and begin to fix the mess she has made.

"So…today's the day," Brady begins, sitting patiently as I make little ringlets cover her head.

"Yep. I'm glad Isabelle still has a few more years before she's reaped," I continue, brushing back one last curl and turning off the curler.

Brady looks in the mirror, brushes off the ruffles on her bright blue dress, and says, "Let's go."

We grab Damien and walk out to the square. Brady and Damien argue, even at this terrible time, about the pettiest things, making me laugh. We reach the square and move to the fifteen-year-old section. I see Dad and Isabelle in the back, standing together, looking worried. I see Isabelle talking to her friend, Jaylyn, who is noticeable because of her sly expression and her bright orange hair. I don't have any tesserae in, but the chances of being picked are still high, seeing as District 5 has one of the lowest populations. I look up to the stage, where our escort—a tall man with dark skin and curly green hair—sits chatting with our mayor. Our mentors sit off to the side, looking quiet. She has long, wavy brown hair and big amber eyes, and her name is Diana Jennings. The male isn't there, and I suppose that he is drunk somewhere, knowing that he turned to alcohol after his Games.

"God, this is so boring. I want to be back in my studio, painting," Damien complains, groaning.

"You say that all the time," Brady says, playfully shoving him. He goes to retort, but the mayor has stood up and began the customary speech about the Games. I tune most of it out. Then the escort stands up. His name is Lignus Viridis, and yes, he looks much like a tree. He looks quieter than the average escort, but he still has a big grin on his face. He talks smoothly and his voice is deep.

"Happy 73rd Hunger Games!" he announces, his voice magnifying through the microphone. "Ready to hear this year's tributes?"

The crowd mumbles, but most are silent.

He walks towards the first glass ball. He reaches in and digs out a piece of paper after an achingly long time.

"And our female tribute is…Annalise Durrien!"

My heart stops. Brady stifles a shriek, and then squeezes my shoulder as I force myself to walk up to the stage. I don't want to leave Izy and Damien and Brady and _The Last One Left_ here in District 5.

By the time I make it up through the crowd, Lignus has made it to the boy's ball. I sit down just as he pulls out the second slip of paper.

"Our male tribute for District 5 is…Damien Mitchell!" the escort announces enthusiastically, waving the paper in the air. I look over at Brady and see her bawling in the middle of the section as Damien makes his way up to the stage. I feel terrible empathy for her, even knowing what I will be put through. I rise, and Damien and I stand together on the stage, our wrists held up in the customary fashion by Lignus.

"Happy Hunger Games, District 5, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"


	2. Saying Goodbye

By now, Brady has started shrieking and is being led away by some Peacekeepers. Damien and I are then hustled off of the stage and into the Justice Building.

I've been here, once before, and the splendor remains the same plush carpet, gold-paneled walls, intricately carved ceiling patterns. I hug Damien briefly before we are separated and sent to different rooms. I haven't gotten much time for emotions so far, and they are still all bottled up inside me. I wait for a while, and then Dad and Isabelle walk in. Izy immediately runs and launches herself at me, and I grab her and hug her tightly. She is quiet, but tears are pouring down her face. Dad comes over too, and we sit together hugging each other and for some reason the tears still don't come.

Eventually, Dad pulls away. "You have to try. I know, if you put your mind to it, you can win the Games," he says, looking me in the eyes. Izy hiccoughs.

"I know, Dad. I'll try. I promise," I reply quietly.

"You have to, Anna," Izy chimes in. "I—I—I'd miss you too much if you were gone." She bows her head, but then lights up as she pulls something from her sweater. It's my book. I have just enough time to thank her and hug them both one last time before the Peacekeepers escort them away.

Brady comes in next. It is clear that she has been crying, but she still manages to sit down and say hello.

"Have you already seen Damien?" I ask quietly. She nods.

"I don't want to think about it. Two of the people I love most could be dead in two weeks," she says, looking at the floor.

"Don't think about it like that," I say, but I don't know how else to think of it. We sit in silence until she has calmed down.

"Remember when we first met?" she asks, cocking her head at me.

"Yes" I reply to her tear-stained face. "We were about six, and we were walking to school, and it had just rained."

"And I was splashing in the mud, and I got mud on you new skirt," she says, smiling.

"And you said that you would splash mud on your own new skirt, and we would start a trend," I finish, laughing half-heartedly.

She smiles, and the Peacekeeper comes in to escort her out.

"I'll look after Isabelle," she says, and then she is gone.

I wait a bit more, my hands fingering the pages of my book. My place is marked by a bookmark Isabelle bought me when she was 8: a little cross-stitch of a magnifying glass that says _Every new book is a mystery._ I stroke the tassel, remembering the memory. I decide to wait until I am at least on the train to read it. Finally, I am told that I need to go. I stand and walk out, the book clutched tightly in my hands. I meet Damien, and he looks worn and pale.

Since the train station isn't far from the Justice Building, we don't drive; instead we walk the precious few feet. When we get there, we are practically jumped on by reporters. Damien and I make our way through the crowd, his arm around my shoulder carefully guiding me through the throngs. We make it onto the train with Lignus and Diana—there is still no sign of our male mentor. As the train speeds off, I look out the window and see my home, my whole life rushing away from me, and the blood and tears rush to my face and I break down, sobbing, Damien's arm still wrapped around me.

**AN: Whee! More Annalise for you to drool over! I drew a picture of Anna, Brady and Damien and out it on my deviantart, mypatronusisacat. It's called **_**Friends before the Change. **_**Feel free to check that out for visuals. :D Also I might not post as often, because I am BETAing for my friend Arcticmist, AKA Danielle, so I am really busy with that. Ok, Cheers!**


	3. Welcome to the Capitol!

**AN: Happy holidays! I hope everyone had a good holiday and has a great New Year! Wheee! Ok, enjoy the latest installment! Also, sorry for ignoring some of my other fics…I've been busy.**

I wake up in a bed, wrapped in a thick comforter and any number of soft, silky sheets. My eyes are crusted with tears, and my head is pounding. I push myself up and see that I'm in my own room. _We must still be on the train_, I think, as I wander into the bathroom.

Diana sticks her head in just as I make it to the bathroom. "Hurry up, we'll be pulling into the Capitol soon, and you didn't eat dinner yesterday. If you want to shower, make it quick," she snaps, and closes the door.

When I make it into the bathroom and look in the mirror, I realize that I'm still wearing my reaping dress and makeup. I pee, and then pull off my dress and tights, noting that someone removed my headband and shoes before I passed out. I step into the shower and turn on the massage jets and the delicious mixed scents of lilies and sugar cookies. I let the warm water cascade down my back, washing away the events of yesterday. I hum a little as I step out. I pull on a robe and dig through the dresser, looking for something I can put on. Eventually I come up with a long white sweater with a ruffled top and a pair of black tights. I pull on my black flats and headband again, then look myself over in the mirror. I look a little bit thinner and more tired than I usually look. I rub my face, run my fingers through my unruly hair, and walk out to the dining car.

Before I am five steps down the hall, I remember my book. I run back into my room to find it on the nightstand next to my unmade bed. I stroke the cover, then pick it up and bring it with me to breakfast.

I walk into a room with a large table covered in food. Damien, Diana and Lignus are already sitting at the table. I slide into a seat next to Damien and whisper," How's the food?"

"Incredible," Damien mumbles through a mouthful of bacon and eggs. I load my plate with a bagel, some eggs, a roll smeared with jam, and a mug of hot chocolate. We don't have it often, but it's one of my favorite drinks. I can't stand coffee.

"So what happened last night?" I ask Damien after I have finished breakfast and am sipping on a glass of apple juice.

"Well, you passed out, and I carried you to your room after Lignus pointed it out, I took off your shoes and headband, I wrapped you in the blankets and I put your book on the nightstand. What's more to say?"

"Why did it take so long? We're not that far away from the Capitol," I ask, putting down my glass.

"Train got stuck in the mountains," Damien says as he finally puts down his fork and leans back."Whew! I'm stuffed!"

Suddenly, the light goes down as we speed into the tunnel. "Well, we still have a half-hour until we arrive," Lignus announces, as he stands up and stretches. I take this as an invitation to leave, and seeing as we're not going to get much out of Diana—she's nursing her second cup of coffee—Damien and I stand up and leave.

We walk back to the first car we entered in. There is a set of chairs there, and I sit down and open up my book, but I can't focus. Damien stands and looks out the window. Finally, light floods the compartment, and I peer out the window. They haven't lied about the Capitol's grandeur. It's huge, brightly coloured, and swarming with people. Each person has a distinct air about them, all of them with their own sort of aura.

"Come on, we probably have to go now," Damien says, beckoning me. I follow him back to the dining car, where everything has been cleaned up already.

Diana walks straight over to us. "Garreth, the male mentor, he isn't coming," she says, taking the words right out of my mouth. "Listen, you're going to be shepherded straight to the stylists. You might not like what they're going to do, but you just need to grin and bear it, okay?" We nod. I feel a bit lightheaded, but Damien squeezes my hand and I feel grounded again.

We exit the train, where Damien shields me from the cameras again. We walk straight out of the station and into a tall building, where we a overtaken by groups of people who look like little coloured birds, or mice. I give Damien one last hug before we are separated. My prep team consists of a woman named Elsie, who looks like a tiny canary with bright yellow skin, another woman named Fortuna, who had purple hair wound up into a sort of beehive on her head, and a man named Grahame, who is a bubbly little man with little brown curls of hair all over his head, and speckles all over his face, like freckles, but more man-made.

It's been two hours. I've been in the Remake Room all this time. I didn't know how much someone could clean up a person! I generally take good care of myself and try to look nice, but there's so much more. Ugh. On the bright side, they did something to my hair so that it will be perennially straight, and it isn't a wild curly mess anymore. I was scrubbed down, slathered with two types of lotion, both of which burned more than a little. All of the hairs on my body have been ripped out, my nails are rounded, my eyebrows aligned. Finally, after all has been done, I stand naked while my prep team a few remaining hairs off of my body. They trot out, smiling, to go get my stylist.

"Hello, Annalise. Such a lovely name, I might add. My name is Selena," she says. She looks cool, calm. She has long blonde hair and is wearing a blue t-shirt with some sort of design on it and a pair of black, hip-hugging jeans. She eyeballs my naked figure. I feel a bit self conscious, and ignore her by staring at my book, sitting nearby on a table. "Okay, you can put your robe back on. Let's go talk," she says, walking out the door. I put on my robe, slide my book into it and follow her into the hall and we go into a conference room with huge windows. My eyes immediately travel to them and see millions of tiny people buzzing around the streets. Selena beckons to me to sit on one of the couches. I do, and she pushes a button, causing the tabletop to open and a platter of food to pop out. It is a tureen of some kind of creamy white stew, some rolls, and some apple slices with peanut butter.

We each load our plates, and Selena begins to talk. "You know how each of the districts are supposed to be representing themselves in the chariot ride." I nod.

"Well, since District 5 is about power and electricity, we—that is my partner Aviar and I—decided that we would focus, not on the power itself, but what comes from it."

This doesn't sound good. One year, a few years before we got Selena and Avair, they decided on the same thing. That year, our tributes were dressed as lightbulbs. Giant lightbulbs. It was atrocious.

"Therefore, we decided to focus on the light that comes from the power that District 5 generates," Selena continues.

It's getting worse.

"Here's the plan," Selena says, laying aside her plate and pulling out a sketchbook. I peer over the pages, and I am shocked by what I see.


	4. A Chariot of Light

**AN: Hello again! Hope 2012 is treating you all nicely! I regret to inform you that not only am I sick (I have pneumonia and I think I am allergic to the meds . ICK) but something is buggedly wrong with my computer (some of my docs won't open normally) THEREFORE there will be a lack of updates. Actually, now that I think about it, there may be MORE updates because I am sick. Oh well, we'll see how it plays out, eh? ENJOY BJDOIJHWFWGNV;TIU;RJN;,IJBBWGHIUQOIXCHWNJTLQUNHRE**

I am looking, not at lightbulbs, but at a completely brilliant and revolutionary outfit.

"It's a one-piece, a unitard, with a bunch of tiny lights strung inside and throughout it," Selena begins, "The fabric is layered, and it is a new multi-dimensional type of cooling fabric, so you can wear as many of those little LED lights without getting burned by them."

She continues to point out the various aspects of the costume. The unitard, as she has called it, is white, and all of the little dotted lights are a multitude of colours—red, yellow, blue, green, purple, and orange. There is a pair of knee-high boots that have colour-changing soles every time I will take a step. There is a band that winds around my head made of the same lights that are in my costume. Finally, to compliment the outfit there are various illuminated pieces of jewelry and a rainbow sash made out of some see-through material that loops over my shoulder with the words DISTRICT 5 in lights.

"Avair and I wanted to show how brightly you can shine in the games; how brightly light can shine anywhere," Selena finishes, putting away the drawing pad.

I am truly awed. "Well, it's better than lightbulbs," I say, and we laugh. "Seriously, though, it is flawless. I love it."

"Good to hear," she says, standing. "Let's light you up."

A few hours later, the costume is on me. I stand as Selena makes some final finishing touches to the lights covering my body. There's a tiny button on the palm area of the unitard that I can press to turn the entire costume, which is all wired together, on or off. My cheeks are highlighted to accentuate my face, and my eyelids have been carefully streaked with the same colours as are on my costume. My hair has been straightened to some extent and Selena tells me it will stay straight for some weeks. This is a nice bit of information, because I won't have to worry about my hair in the arena. The thought is a bit selfish, but comforting.

We go down to meet Avair and Damien. Damien's costume resembles stars more than mine does, which I think gives off more of an ambience of light. Damien is wearing the same style of costume—light up unitard, boots, crown, sash—but his unitard is a navy blue, the colour of night sky, with tiny white lights everywhere, and a meshy white sash.

I run and hug him, until both Avair and Selena shout, "Careful!" and I remember what I am wearing. I pull away, and for some reason Damien is blushing.

Everyone gives congratulations to Selena and Avair, who accept the compliments gracefully. After this, we are taken down to the bottom level of the Remake Center. As I look around, it is essentially a giant stable. We are immediately loaded into our chariot, a giant white one pulled by four horses, both of which are completely decked out in little lights. Our horses are both white and blue. Selena and Avair arrange us before they have to leave, signaling the beginning of the chariot ride.

"This is incredible," Damien whispers to me.

"I know. Everything is so beautiful and bright here," I say back, staring out the door which is only feet away from our chariot, the fifth in line.

"Not just that, but our whole experience. Everyone is so nice, and patient. I didn't expect it to be that way."

I sit, a bit stunned. I didn't really expect anything before we came here. "I didn't expect anything, so you could say I am pleasantly surprised," I reply.

"A wise decision. Now you won't be disappointed," Damien agrees, laughing.

The music blares, and suddenly it is too loud to talk. We turn on our costumes and they light up. I feel like I am a wire of electricity, burning bright for all of Panem to see.

Our chariot is pulled out, and I can feel everyone gasp. I put on my best smile, and we are driven out. We are a blinding force to every street corner. Some people are pulling out sunglasses, even though the sun is fading and it is almost nighttime.

I can bet that Izy loves this costume. She has always been entranced by lights. I wave at the madding crowds when I feel Damien take my hand. I turn, confused, but Damein hisses, "Just keep waving." I shrug it off and continue to bend the crowd to my will, begging people to be entranced by me. People are chanting our names, showering us with flowers.

We pull into the City Circle and I can finally breathe easily. We wait until all twelve chariots are inside, and then the president comes out to make the official welcome. We are in front of his house, and as I am bored by the speech, I cannot help but stare at his mansion. It's grand. They replay the ride, and I can't help but notice that, illuminated as we are, it's hard not to notice us in the dimming twilight. We exit the chariots and are whisked away into the Training Center. Damien has let go of my hand, which I am regretting because I am freezing cold at this time of night.

When we get inside, we are attacked with cheers by our prep team. We turn off our costumes and are hugged and cajoled and congratulated. Selena and Avair congratulate us.

"Well done. Everyone loved you," Avair says, beaming. Selena nods and smiles in agreement. I turn and smile at Damien, who smiles back, and I suddenly feel ridiculously happy for such a terrible time, because tomorrow we start our training.


	5. The Light in Training

**AN: Hai! I'm sick **_**again**_**, but now I think it's allergies. Either way I'm sitting here, sneezing all over my computer like some kind of germ-infested corpse—oh wait, I AM a germ-infested corpse. Oh well, here I am with my sick self to give you the continuing story of Annalise!**

We climb into the elevator and exit on Floor 5. Lignus is following us, making sure we know where we're going, and so is Diana. They both seem ecstatic about our chariot ride. I try to seem happy, but I am too tired to start caring right now.

We are shown to our rooms, I say goodnight to Damien and walk slowly into the bathroom. I shed the light-up skin and climb into the shower, where I surround myself with massaging jets and the scent of buttercups. I literally have to push myself out of the unending supply of warm water so I can get to bed. I pull on a pair of boxers and a wayward t-shirt and climb into bed, where someone has already delivered my book. I decide to read for a few minutes, until I somehow end up lying back and falling asleep.

When I wake up, I realize that I missed dinner _again_. Bloody hell. This is no way to prepare, but I'm so nervous I'm never hungry.

I dress in the training outfit Lignus has left me. It's a grey one-piece stretchy thing, with a pair of lace-up boots. I walk down to breakfast as I decide I need to eat before I train.

The dining room is pretty crowded, but I fill a plate from the buffet and find a seat next to Damien and Diana.

"Hello, Annalise," Diana remarks curtly. I glance at Damien, and he shrugs, unsure of this cranky new behavior coming from our mentor.

"Remember, don't show off your special talents. Try to get around to everything, because you never know what you'll encounter in the arena. If you want to, see if you can find anyone to make allies with, because chances are that one of you is going to get killed before you can become allies." Damien gulps.

I nibble at the cinnamon roll I grabbed. Suddenly, I'm nervous again. I'm a wreck. This is terrible. I look around at the other tributes. The ones from 12 are being yelled at by their escort for eating without using utensils. The tributes from 1, 2 and 4 are conferring as usual. I'm trying to remember which district is sitting behind 7, who have a skinny little boy with freckles and a very mean-looking girl, when Lignus comes over and tells us we can go to the gym. I stand, brush the crumbs from my lap, and head to the elevator with Damien close behind me.

We push the button, and we are alone in the elevator.

"I'm so nervous," I whisper to Damien.

"Me too. Let's just stick together," he hisses back, as the elevator doors open. By my count, we're the sixth team to arrive.

Atala, who runs training, runs through her spiel. She goes over the many different stations, and we disperse.

"Want to go identify plants?" Damien suggests. I nod, and we retreat over to the plant station. It's manned by a very cheery-looking guy. I learn the names of many different edible—and inedible—plants I don't think I'd ever come across back home in 5. After an hour, we decide that we are adequately prepared for any sort of plant situation.

"This is taking a lot of time. Maybe we should split up and cover other stuff," I suggest. Damien's face suddenly seems pallid, but he nods. "Alright." He heads off to learn how to throw knives, and I retreat to the fire-starting station. I struggle for a few minutes with matches, but once I get the hang of those, the trainer suggests I use some flint and cloth. This I struggle with, and I'm close to screaming after an hour or more of fighting with it when—it sparks! I almost shriek with delight, when I remember there are others in the room, and I don't want to draw attention. Lunch is announced.

Lunch is quiet. Everyone sits at their individual tables. Damien and I fill Diana in on what we've been doing. Damien tells us he's been to the knife throwing station, the knot-tying station and the bow and arrow station (which he failed consistently at). Diana concludes that Damien needs to learn more survival skills and I need to start combat skills.

We return to the Training Center. I amble over to the knife throwing station, just for kicks, and find that I, with my meager arm strength, can throw a knife pretty damn well. I'm whipping knives at the wall with regular accuracy after just 45 minutes. The little boy from 7 is watching me in awe, but he's still a pretty good match against me.

"Wow. You're good," I comment, after he throws a curving knife that neatly slices off a dummy's head.

"Um, thanks," he says. "You too."

"Thanks. What's your name?" I ask, trying not to sound prying. "I'm Annalise."

"Dennis," he replies, as I whip a knife straight into the heart of the decapitated dummy.

"Nice to meet you," I say as I walk off, and Dennis shrugs.

I look around and decide to go off to the hand-to-hand combat. I am met by the trainer, who is explaining some kind of punching method to the girl from 8? 9? The girl tries it out on a dummy that lights up wherever you hit it. Quite an impressive piece of technology. I listen in as the trainer is now explaining a kick that could quite possibly deafen a tribute when aimed appropriately. I practice on one of the light-up dummies and it is deafened after a few minutes of kicking. I stay at the hand-to hand combat station for an hour and a half, learning blocking, kicking and punching techniques I've never heard of. The trainer encourages me to fight one of the other tributes, but I realize—this is my strength. I decline, and I can hear the other tributes whispering about me. They think I'm a chicken. I'm not, but to be honest, I'm incredibly sore. My muscles haven't been exposed to this kind of exercise.

At dinner, Damien tells me about the fishing station he went to, where he managed to catch a ton of fake fish, and the edible bugs station. Between bites of dinner, I tell him about my day. We don't even notice Diana and Lignus, in our excitement. Now, we're scheduled to wait. We won't have to wait long, being from 5. Damien in called in. I have no idea what he plans to do, and it takes all of my willpower to not go watch. I'm called, after about 20 minutes.

I walk into the Training Center. The judges all have their eyes on me. I muck around at the bow and arrow section, but it isn't really worth my time. I decide to use my combat skills instead. I push a light-up dummy into the middle of the room and start to beat it up. Within minutes, the whole thing is glowing and my joints are burning. I then grab a handful of knives and start to throw them. I realize that the dummy isn't totally permeable after about three knives, so I walk straight up to the dummy and send one knife right through the skull, effectively breaking it.

"Thank you for your time," I say clearly, give a little bow, and leave my masterpiece in the middle of the room.


	6. Burning Out the Interviews

Suffice to say, Lignus and Diana are not happy with my actions.

"You walked out of the room unexcused? You damaged a piece of expensive Capitol equipment? What were you thinking?" Diana shrieks at me, during dinner, after I told her about my session. I sit and chew my food slowly, waiting to see if she'll quiet down before I can respond. Damien has already told me about his fascinating jaunt with the knives and something involving the insects.

"Personally, I think it was a rashly bold move on her part," Damien mumbles through a mouthful of rice. I smile at the support and glance toward Lignus, who is rubbing his temples with his thumbs, elbows on the table. Diana is still seething. I swallow my food.

"I made an ally, possibly," I venture.

Lignus perks up. "Who?"

"Dennis, the boy from 7. I met him at the knives."

"Is he any good?" Lignus asks.

"Yeah, I guess so. I didn't watch him too much, but he's got a good arm for axes," I reply. I look up from my empty plate and realize Diana has left.

"I'd advise you to get to bed before she comes back," Lignus says wearily, standing up. "We're going to continue your training for the interviews tomorrow. "

Damien and I take the elevator back to our floor. We get out, and I am so tired from training I don't even change my clothes before I fall on the bed, instantly asleep as fatigue overtakes me.

The next morning is not a pleasant one. Someone has put pajamas on me, and I wake up in a nightgown. I shower and change and then stroll down to the breakfast table. Lignus beckons me to a table and I sit next to him and Damien.

"Okay, now my first question is: do you want to be trained apart, or together?" Lignus asks. I shrug, and glance at Damien. He looks back, and suddenly it rushes to me: this isn't a silly story where one is always the victor. This is survival.

"Alone," I confirm, and Damien nods.

"Alright. Damien, I'll take you for the first half and Diana can take Annalise. Have fun!" he says, and shoos me over to Diana, who struts off to a different room.

Hours later, I can feel that Diana is much more pleased with me than she was yesterday. I have shown adequate balance in high heels and we have decided on the sweet teen girl for my interview. I'm pulling off the sparkling (but still blisteringly wretched) heels when Damien pokes his head in.

"Hey, Lignus wants you," he says, thumbing the door behind him. We switch spots, acknowledging luck with a nod, and I enter for my session with Lignus.

"Hello, Annalise. Have you decided on an attitude for the interviews yet?" he asks.

"Yeah. Diana thinks I should go with a 'sweet teenager' look, but that might have been the coffee talking," I reply.

"Okay then." He pulls out a stack of white notecards from his green suit pocket. "Let's practice."

The questions aren't too hard, and but I'm trying to be sweet and sassy at the same time and it's difficult mixing in the right amount of sass and sex without looking like a six-year-old. I'm glad when the training is over, but now I have to face my prep team again.

An hour later I've been scrubbed and shaved and who knows what else and I am awaiting my dress in a furry blue robe, which is just shedding all over me. I have almost finished my book when Selena walks in.

"Hello, hello, hello, Annalise. Ready to see your interview costume?" she sings.

"I guess," I say warily. She sounds a little bit too happy and off-key, but I peer over her shoulder at the gown anyways.

It's a dark navy blue, the exact colour of Damien's chariot costume, coloured by white lights that looks like something out of the inside of a computer. There's a voluminous white petticoat, white gloves with silver bangles inlaid with sapphires, heels (much lower than Diana's) and a crown with sapphires. I stare at it in surprise.

An hour later, I'm regretting this costume a little bit. Selena has removed two of the petticoats, so my dress has lost its flounce but not its weight. The dress is heavy. I am forced to stand as my bare shoulders, upper arms and face are covered with glitter after my makeup. My hair is braided in two places with tiny lights. I feel a bit like a Christmas tree, but the dress is still beautiful. Upon closer inspection, the computer-graphic design is made of blue and silver gemstones.

Damien is wearing the same type of suit, but white, more like my chariot costume. We are lined up backstage when Damien grabs my hand. It's sweaty and cold.

"I'm so nervous," he whispers through my hair. I squeeze back.

"Me too. Don't worry, just wing it," I suggest. He goes to respond, but we are lining up.

1…2…3…4…and it's my turn. I walk over and sit next to Ceasar Flickerman, who is wearing a crimson-coloured suit with flaming red hair.

"Annalise, how are you? Your dress is lovely," he begins, setting the tone at a lighter mood.

"I'm great, thank you, and I love my dress as well!" I reply, trying to smile. I stand, thinking to give the crowd a better view, and after they cheer I sit down.

"So, I bet a charming young woman like you has boys just clamoring over you back home, eh? Got a sweetheart back in 5?" he asks, laughing.

"Oh, I'm beating them off with both hands!" I reply jovially. I glance into the crowd and see Damien sitting—but sulking? Perhaps he's still nervous.

Ceasar laughs. I have their attention now. "But no, actually I didn't find my special someone yet," I say, trying to make this seem like a big deal, like my shining moment, and she crowd sighs. A few wipe away tears, and I know this will get me sponsors too.

"You poor thing, never having your first love," Ceasar intones, gently putting his hand on mine in a comforting gesture. The buzzer rings, and the crowd screams with delight.

"I'm afraid we're out of time. Annalise, everyone!" The crowd is insane, and I exit the stage smiling and waving. I watch Damien walk out, nervous and a bit pale.

"Hello Damien. Are you feeling well tonight?" Ceasar asks. Damien says something about being nervous, and the audience titters. I look around for a chair, because the dress is starting to slide off my chest, and then I hear a collective gasp from the television screen I was watching backstage. The handful of other tributes are staring intently at the TV screen, and whatever Damien just said I completely missed.

By the time I have found a chair big enough to account for all the layers, Damien has finished his interview.

"Hey," I wave, and he walks over, looking very relieved.

"Hey," he says, pulling over a smaller chair that I pushed aside and sitting.

"Good job," I say.

"Same to you. They were eating out of your hands," Damien replies.

"Yeah," I laugh a little bit. I realize that this is the closest to a normal conversation we have had since the reaping. We haven't been ourselves.

Damien is staring at me. "You've changed," he says, as if he's reading my mind.

"I know. We've both changed. It's just this whole experience," I say, averting my eyes to the TV, where 12 has just finished their interviews. The anthem plays, and we retire to a quiet dinner and our rooms.

I lie on the bed, reading the last page of my book. I have finally finished it. I'm glad, because I wasn't planning on taking it into the arena tomorrow. _Tomorrow._ Is it really that soon?

I try to sleep, but the beast runs from me, turning at every corner. This will happen any time I am dreading something in the morning. I know I'm not going to sleep, so I sit and try to reread as much of my book as possible, trying to remember what I'm leaving behind in less than 24 hours.

**AN: Heeeeeeey! I'm not sick anymore! YAY! And now we're getting into the pure undiluted action! YAY! Let's see what happens next!**


	7. Veins are Tunnels of Blood

**AN: Hello again! Who are you guys? Just kidding, ily guys. Mah buddies. AND NOW FOR THE ADVENTURE AND EXCITING PARTS!**

**(Also, sorry if the themes of the arenas or costumes are repetitive, but I love the ideas and it's more fun to shape them with different characters.)**

I sleep poorly. After finally managing to doze for a few hours, I awake. It's still an hour until the official breakfast call, but I go down to the dining floor anyways. The avoxes are still setting up, so there isn't much out, but I grab a mug of hot chocolate and return to my room to page through The Last One Left once more. I decide that I'm going to ask Selena if I can send it home to Izy after I go into the arena.

_The arena. _I shudder as I'm drowned in realization. The games are starting today. I leave my room, bringing my cocoa, to find Damien emerging from his.

"Hey," I venture, taking a sip of my cocoa.

"Morning," he yawns. "So. Today's the day, eh?"

"Yup. I guess this is it," I sigh. Tears start to come to my eyes, and I blink them away.

"Hey, you alright?" Damien asks, leaning down to peer into my face.

"Um, yeah, fine. Just nervous," I say, wiping my eyes. "Let's get breakfast."

By now, mostly everyone is downstairs, trying to get in one last meal before we start. As per usual, the Careers are conferring. About five tributes are huddled together in the middle of the room. I go over and fill up my plate, but by the time we find our table and sit down, my stomach is churning. I sit and stare at my food, and Damien doesn't make any pushing to get me to eat it. I see him pocket a roll, but it's pointless: they will take anything away from you that isn't a certified token.

It's quieter than a tomb as we are packed into the hovercraft. A lady comes by with a long needle and asks me to stick out my forearm.

"Why?" I ask, suddenly very jumpy.

"It's the tracker," she responds, like this explains everything. I mutely hold out my arm and close my eyes as she sticks me expertly. I open my eyes as she moves on to the next person. I can see a faint outline under my skin. It hurts.

We are shepherded to our separate holding areas. I hug Damien one last time, and I don't want to let go of my past, of everything that could be—

And he's gone.

I walk into the holding room, where Selena is waiting for me with my outfit. It is a dark bodysuit with a thin headband with a light. A headlamp. I have on thin shoes that look made for running or hiking, and a short overcoat.

"This outfit doesn't make a lot of sense, but you'll probably be somewhere where there will be rocks or dirt for climbing," Selena remarks, as she helps me put on the headlamp.

I regard myself in the mirror. I'm surprised, and at the same time unsurprised, by the dark circles forming under my eyes.

"Did you eat anything for breakfast?" Selena asks. I shake my head. She sighs, and then calls for some classic District Five rolls.

"Oh yeah! I forgot! Can you send my book back home to my sister, Izy?" I ask.

"I'll see what I can do," Selena smiles, and I know that it will find its way back home. The rolls have arrived, and I munch on one.

A buzzer sounds.

"Ok, time to go. Good luck," Selena says, as I finish the bread quickly. I step onto the plate. Selena waves, and I wave back as she disappears under the dirt.

The platform ride goes smoothly until it stops with a halt. I wonder if it's stuck, but then I realize the ride has ended. It's so dark I can't make out the arena. My hand reaches up to turn on my headlamp, but since nobody else has done it, my hand slinks back down to my side. I begin the countdown.

_60…59…58…57…_

Someone across the circle switches on their headlamp. The beam flashes around for a moment before a bomb near the plate explodes, sending the unfortunate tribute into pieces. Not another lamp turns on.

_50…49…48…47…46…45…_

I hate this waiting, especially in the dark. I hate the dark. I wonder if…no, no, it couldn't be.

_28…27…26…_

Are the Gamemakers taunting us? Are they ridiculing District 5? Trying to show us how to survive without light?

_19…18…17…_

I've heard President Snow say it too many times. _A spark is nice, but it must be contained._

_10…9…8…_

Is Selena okay? What about Damien's stylist, Avair?

_5…4…3…_

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the 74th Hunger Games BEGIN!" shouts Claudius Templesmith.

The gong rings. Suddenly, a ton of headlamps blind the arena with light. We are in a sort of clearing, a large underground tunnel, and the cornucopia is build right into the walls. I am so wrapped up in my thoughts it takes me a minute to switch on my headlamp and look around.

The first thing that pops into my mind is the fact that there are batteries. Everywhere. I scoop up a handful, thinking they may be important. Right next to me is a small waist pack, which I quickly snatch up and stuff the batteries into. Just as I straighten up and turn, a knife slices my shoulder open. I shriek in pain.

"Next one's gonna be your head!" shouts a voice, decidedly male. I run off blindly, in the opposite direction of the knife. I trip over something a look down a few steps later, all I can see is a bit of blood on my shoe. I know in my mind I tripped over a dead tribute. Looking up, I see three different tunnels. Tears are starting to leak out of my eye, and I frantically take the right one, running through more and more darkness until I run into someone again.

Only this someone is alive.

"Ah! Who are you?"

"I'm Dennis! Come on, we've got to get away from the Careers!" he replies, grabbing my uninjured arm and pulling me forwards.

"Turn off your headlamp when we stop, but keep looking forward. You're our only source of light right now," he says with extreme audacity. I follow him, my blood-soaked arm aching, until I'm sure we have run at least two miles, until I am having serious trouble breathing, until Dennis says—

"Turn it off."

I oblige and turn it off with my uninjured, but blood-soaked hand. Already Dennis has taken my pack and is examining its contents, along with a blue backpack that he must have taken. As I sit and apply pressure to my right arm, I realize that there is a tiny bit of light seeping through the ceiling of the ginormous tunnels.

"What…how," I mumble to myself.

"The arena is a giant maze of tunnels," Dennis responds automatically, "and the cornucopia area is pitch black. That's all I've figured out so far."

I squint at the figure kneeling before me. "Did you find any bandages or anything?" I ask.

"No, but I found a handkerchief. Let me see your arm," he says, standing up. His head only comes to about my shoulder, but he's peering at my wound.

"This might hurt," he says swiftly before clicking on his headlamp and swiping my cut with the handkerchief.

"OW!" I screech.

"Don't yell! They won't find us easily, but that will help!" he says quietly, turning off his headlamp.

I bit my lip as he ties the makeshift bandage by touch. We then sit on the packed dirt of the ground and watch the ceiling of the tunnel as the faces flash.

The first one is the boy from 6. Then it is the pair from 8, the girl from 9, then both from 10, 11 and 12. This isn't looking good so far. 10 dead in the first day. These Careers are brutal.

"Twelve left. Good odds or bad odds?" Dennis asks from the darkness beside me.

"Definitely bad," I respond quietly.


	8. It's Amazing How Much You Can Miss

**AN: YAY ACTION! How did the blackout day go for everyone? It actually didn't affect me X| Oh well. CONTINUATION TIEM!**

We sleep for hours, but when I wake, it is as dark as before. Dennis is already awake, and is sitting and sorting through what sounds like a bag. I can't tell if it is his, mine, or another's.

"Hey," I mutter.

"Morning," he says.

"Is there any food in there?" I venture, yawning.

"Not enough. Just some roots and nuts. Good job picking up the batteries, though," Dennis replies through the dark.

"Well, one thing we can say is that the Careers will have more trouble finding us than they normally do," I say, as I carefully stand up and turn on my light.

"I suppose so," Dennis replies. He looks up. "Hey! Look! There's water streaming from those stalactites! Can you catch it in this water bottle?" He holds up a plastic bottle.

"I guess I can try," I say. The next few minutes are spent carefully using roots to climb as close as I dare to the ceiling to collect the water. After I manage to fill it, I close it and climb back down.

"Now, the first things we need to do are take inventory, find food sources, weapons, and figure out how long the battery on these headlamps lasts," Dennis proclaims.

We start with the inventory. In my blue pack, we have 4 round batteries, a bag of walnuts, and some matches. In Dennis's green backpack we have the water bottle, a bit of dried meat, some bandages and a thin blanket. We have no weapons.

"We have no weapons. If someone attacked us, we'd die," I remark in a monotone.

"Well then, we'll just have to find some," Dennis retorts.

I stare at the side of the cave. There's some plants and moss growing on the side of the cave.

"Hey," I begin," We can use the moss on wounds, and we can eat these plants!" I grab a handful of the edible leaves off of the wall and put them in my bag. As I reached for them, I was reminded of my shoulder.

"Dennis, how does my shoulder look?" I ask.

I turn my headlamp off as he turns on his. He gets the bandages out of his bag and looks at my shoulder. The handkerchief is soaked with blood, but he pulls it off and has the moss and bandage wrapped around it in no time.

"Since we have nowhere else to go, let's just keep going forwards," Dennis says. I nod, and we continue walking.

"Why did you choose me as an ally?" I say after an hour of silence.

"I don't know. You seem strong. And you're a good combat fighter, which is a better skill than fighting with weapons," he replies honestly. Dennis has a lot more knowledge about skills and surviving than I do.

"Well thanks. You're better with an axe," I reply.

"Like that's any use here," he mutters.

A few hours later, after we've eaten the second of our two small meals a day, I ask another question. "What's your District partner like?" I ask.

"Her? Sally? She's a bitch. Not selfish, just really cruel. She beats up people for fun. This is her kind of game. I bet she's with the Careers," Dennis sneers. "What about Damien?"

_Damien! He could be wounded, or starving, or dead!_ "He's my best friend, along with his sister."

"Really? Nothing more?"

"Why do you ask that?" I say harshly, stopping and turning to face him.

Dennis looks startled. "What do you mean? Didn't you see his interview?"

"No, I was busy fixing my dress," I admit, irritated.

"He said he wished his sister's best friend knew she loved him. He wouldn't say anything more. Are you his sister's best friend?" he asks, peering up into my face. His headlamp is blinding, and it's giving me a headache behind the tears that are starting in my eyes.

"Yes," I whisper, turning away. Hot tears are running down my cheeks. _He loved me, and he's going to die. I'm such a selfish brat._

"I feel like now would be a good time to go to sleep."

Then Dennis is quiet. I can hear him fussing with his bag, and I can hear him spreading out the blanket, and I can hear him lying down. His headlamp clicks off. I compose myself, and then find the blanket and lie down to sleep for the night.

My last thought before I drift out of consciousness is _he loves me._


	9. The Scary Things That Hide in the Dark

**AN: OHMYGOD I WAS REREADING THIS AND I HAVE TO CONTINUE THIS NOW OH MY GOD USIGHNV;LGAUNVP IUDHFV FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEELSS!**

**Wow, two updates in one day? On two stories? NEW RECORD! **

**WARNING: Kind of gross, slimy, mental trauma in this chapter.**

The next few dark days are very quiet. I'm still reveling in the news when Dennis says something terrible:  
>"We're lost."<p>

"Shocking," I remark dryly. "Can we turn back?"

"I guess, but we run the risk of hitting Careers." 4 more people have died since the bloodbath, including Dennis' district partner. There are 8 of us left.

"So we keep going?"  
>"And hope for the best. At least they have a harder time tracking us if we're ahead of them," Dennis supplies.<p>

We eat mushrooms, roots, some sparse underground foods, and occasionally a mole or hedgehog that has the misfortune to pass us by.

As the end of the first week draws near, I think out loud. "It's been pretty quiet for a while. Do you think the Gamemakers are planning something?"  
>"Perhaps," Dennis replies, but I don't catch the rest of his remark, because he's cut off by a loud, rumbling sound.<p>

Suddenly, the ground bursts open! A massive hole is ripped through the dirt by something large…too large for comfort. We scream, and try to run, but the large, flesh-coloured ground-ripping thing is blocking the path away from the Cornucopia. We have no choice but to turn tail and return. I leap away and sprint, with Dennis close behind me. The thing has horrible smelling, warm breath, and it starts to ooze after us, panting heavily. I feel like I might vomit from the stench, but I keep running away from this animal, if one could even call it that. I'm trying not to look back when I hear a cry behind me! I turn my head, and everything goes into slow motion. Dennis is on the ground, tripped by a wayward rock. Tears are beginning to drip down his face, but instead of getting up, he wrestles with the blue backpack he has on his back. He barely has time to throw it to me before the thing is upon him, jaw open wide, teeth glistening with blood and saliva. He screams, but I can barely make out his words:

"_Win for the both of us!"_

I am shocked into silence. The creature gnashes down on the boy's body, chewing him to bits and swallowing him. For some miraculous reason it stops just feet in front of me and tears a new hole in the ground, returning to the murky depths under the tunnels.

I am shaking. I reach up to my face and find I am crying. I realize I am squeezing the life out of the blue backpack, and pull it on. My knuckles are white. I take one glance into the hole, shiver, and slowly back away from the hole, not bearing to turn my back on it. I can't stand this anymore. I don't want to think of the others this thing has claimed, leaving behind a trail of oozing slime, of the fact that my ally, who I barely knew, who barely lived life, is dead. But of course I do anyways.


End file.
